The Stacks
by TheFemaleHistorian
Summary: Experiences of a dark and intriguing nature plague a PHD Student.


The fire crackled and burned in the far corner of the library, right at the back, behind the populated section of students cramming for law or economics. In amongst the abandoned stacks, in the small reading centre, much neglected and forgotten, lay the figure of a girl. A smile playing on her deep pink lips as she turned the pages of the aged and dusty book. Much forgotten, like her. She shifted; exposing her lower back as the floor pulled her shirt up, the top of her jeans pressing into the pale, smooth flesh of her hips.

A long tendril of hair fell onto the aged parchment, the chocolate curls brushed against the black ink, scrawled in cursive along the browned paper. Her eyes flicked across the medieval script. Pools of bright hazel, like Autumn leaves, framed by dark lashes that brushed against her rosy cheeks every time she closed her eyes. Her head tilted, following the cursive across the crumpled page. Her hair moved, exposing the porcelain skin of her face and neck, as if carved out of marble.

The snow fell against the stain glass window above her. The cold and blizzard on the outside further emphasising the warmth and cosiness of her hiding place within the confines of the University library. Small hands turned the pages of the aging book; it cracked as the untouched pages turned for the first time in decades. Her eyes widened in interest. The hazel orbs grazed over the ancient insignia that lay on the page in front of her. Biting her lip in anticipation, she moved up onto her knees and compared the picture in the book to her lecture slides.

Icy blue flecks could be seen through the adjacent row of books, observing the young woman. The observer noted the creamy white flesh of her hips, exposed to the dim light cast by the fire. The blue orbs glowed. The young female moved into her knees, the stranger noticed a silver heart shaped necklace drop down. It brushed against the porcelain flesh of her cleavage. She would be his, soon. A giant smile broke out on the young woman's face. Rows of straight, perfectly formed white teeth glowed as she hugged the ancient book to her chest. She jumped up to her feet, grabbing her beloved brown, leather bag and her red military jacket. Moving out from behind the wall of books, she walked down the staircase and to the open library, her boots clicking on the ground and her hips swaggering to her walk. The open stares of males old and young alike followed her. The stranger with the blue eyes hissed. She was his. 

The lock clicked and the front door of the apartment swung open, allowing the young woman entry. She closed it behind her with her foot, and dead bolted it. One could never be too safe. She shrugged off her snow-covered jacket and beanie, releasing the tendrils of chocolate brown curls that fell down her back in waves. Going forth, she pressed play on her answering machine.

'Darling, give me a call when you get this message! Love Mum', She smiled as her mothers voice rang through the speakers.

'Message two', the machine announced.

'Rose, please call me. I miss you', Rose shuddered and pressed silent on the answering machine. No need to guess whom the other ten messages came from. 

A dark figure strolled down the stone path, past the Undergraduate dorms and the surrounding gardens. As tempting as the desperate clutches of the younger female population was, that was not his source of fascination for this evening. Up ahead, the glowing of the Post Graduate apartment lights appeared. The soles of his black shoes tapped against the stones of the path, the only noise against the silence of the night. His eyes glanced up into the high windows. The girl appeared, drying out the long fibres of dark hair with a bath towel. He observed her, opening her laptop, sitting down on her bed and laughing as the slew of emails greeted her. The cold and snow continued to beat down at his face. Still, he stood there, unaffected. 

The fire cracked and burned, heat radiating from its warm front, warming all around it. The singular figure of the girl sat, curled up in the velvet armchair. Head slightly bowed, a look of calm concentration graced her delicate features, her eyes locked on the book that was resting on her knees. The gold leaf embellishment on the cracked leather spines of the ancient stacks glittering as the dim light of the hidden end of the stacks flickered and wavered. A small sigh escaped her lips as she slid the book back into its place on the shelf beside her. She could not find any information. In a library of over One Million books, she still managed to run it almost dry. She lowered her denim-clad legs down to the floor and heaved herself up. She groaned as she moved, the hours of immobility causing her muscles to spasm painfully. Moving towards the stacks, she looked down on the small piece of paper curled up in her hand. She observed the rows upon rows of books, searching for the call numbers on her list. She ran her small, pale fingers across the cracked spines of the aging collection. They came to a stop. Pulling the large volume off the shelf, the girl clutched it to her chest, for grip. The material of her white shirt pulled against her chest, the leather bound novel brushing against the smooth swell of her breasts. Dropping it on the mahogany coffee table with a thud, the dust adorning it spread. Kneeling on the ground, she smoothed over the cover and opened it, the spine cracking, unused this foreign movement. Hazel eyes scanned the ornate cursive on the inner cover of the book that adorned the creamy parchment paper. 'Tales from the Carpathians' read back at her, filling her with a familiar rush of adrenaline. The wheels in her mind began to turn. Following the potential lead, she flicked past the first few pages of the book. There was a cordial introduction, then followed by the acknowledgements and dedications. Boring, she thought to her self. The climax of roman numerals led to the beginning of the story. She went to turn the page; excited and prepared to delve into research…it was stuck. Completely adhered to what appeared to be a wall like structure, mimicking the appearance of layer upon layer of thick, aged parchment paper. Her eyebrow arched, quizzically inspecting the fake book. She flipped the leather bound cover shut and picked the heavy 'text' up. She shook it, and the inside moved, the dull thud of an object could be heard as it hit the bottom of its case again. Placing the casket back on the table, she stood up and eyed it nervously. No, she reasoned with herself, she could not cut it open. As reason failed to prevail, she caught thoughts of grabbing the librarian's letter opener and slashing out the bottom to reveal the mysterious contents from within. 'You can't!' She chastised herself. Stern mental words proving ineffective, she soon found herself sneaking out from behind the stacks and strolling casually down to the head librarian's desk. Looking both ways, she approached the Librarians desk, completely void of life. Spotting the silver glint ahead on the polished mahogany, she reached forth and grabbed the silver handle, quickly concealing it under her sleeve, she ran back to the stacks, turning the corner and panted quickly. Her heart pounded from the adrenaline rush. Looking down at the ornately decorated antique blade, she moved towards the book, laying innocently on the coffee table. She couldn't just butcher it…No, extracting what was within required a great deal of concentration and technique, like a dissection. 'Oh come off it Rose, you haven't done Biology since senior school', She whispered furiously at herself. The silver blade glinted menacingly as it was contained in her tight little palm; she knelt down in front of the book and directed the blade towards layers of thick, adhered parchment. The tip of the blade fit into the crevice and she began to push. Resistance prevailed at first, until the blade tip managed to pierce through the hard glue and push through into the cavity within. Only the handle protruded from the side of the novel. Tightening her grip on the silver knob, she pushed herd to the side, the adhesive loosening and the parchment separating. Arms aching, she twisted the blade, and the rest of the parchment was released. She gasped, her muscles aching and she let go of the hot metal handle. Eyeing the broken book curiously, she pushed the top half off, the remnants of the glue cracking as a lid type apparatus came loose. Whoever had hidden this book obviously did not want this found. Amongst the ruins of its outside shell, in what appeared to be a cavity of hollowed out parchment that was reinforced with resin, lay a small black leather bound book. Her fingertips brushed against the perfectly smooth grain. A soft little specimen it was. She wrapped her hands around the book and pulled it out of its hiding place.

The bright, haunting, crystalline eyes gazed through the gap in the stacks, observing the young woman that sat on the other side. The dim firelight cast a romantic glow on her, her cheeks flushed from physical activity. The messy, loose waves of hair fell around her face and down her shoulders, over the crumpled white of her shirt. Her slight arms raised, she reached into the cavity and pulled out the small leather bound book. The dark figure smiled pleasantly, sharp canines shining, a pleased glint flashing across his haunting eyes. She had found it.

She looked over the leather cover, her fingertips recognising an imprint as her hands smoothed over the front cover. Reaching into her bag, she clumsily pulled out her phone and shined the light from the screen over the imprint. Her heart swelled. The Ancient insignia she had been looking for looked back at her. Wrapped around the cross, the eyes of the dragon, almost menacing, daring her to proceed further into its deep, dark tale. Turning her head and spying the stacks entrance, she hoped no one had heard the wrenching sound of the resin being disassembled. She placed the books lid back on and carried the still heavy piece to the shelf in which she dispatched it to its original place. No one was to ever know. Handling the black leather book, she shoved it into her bag. Grabbing her jacket and other personal effects, she slid out of the stacks and raced out of the library. Stopping only to shrug on her jacket before braving the fierce cold outside.

The frigid wind hit her as she stepped out into the winter rapids, the cold biting at her cheeks and numbing the tip of her nose. Huddling into her jacket, her boots crunched through the freshly fallen snow of the late evening. The light of the full moon was her only guide as she crossed the University. It was usually silent on winter nights with the absence of crickets. A shiver travelled up her spine, the night was too silent. Her stomach clenched, her muscles tensing with fear as that horrible feeling of dread sunk to the pit of her soul. Clutching her books to her chest, she huddled inwards, attempting to beat off the cold and the fear permeating her insides. She reached the stone path. The clicking of her boots on the stone echoed in the eerie silence of the dark night. The street lamp began to flicker, she looked at the path ahead with the last remnants of light and the path went black. Her heartbeat increased ten fold, she began to panic as she relied only on the light of the haunting full moon to guide her the rest of the way home. She didn't feel right. Something was terribly wrong, she thought as the fear began to eat away at her rationality and sanity. 'Its just a power shortage, that's all' She reasoned with herself. Puffs of mist produced as her hot breath met the frigid air of the night. She continued forth, the taps of her boots were the only noise in the dead environment. She felt a rush of cold wind rush past her as if a figure was moving; she swung around and stared back into the blackness. 'Who's there?' She called out, her voice shaking with fear.

No response, she turned around nervously to continue down her moonlit path, cautiously, one foot in front of the other she began to walk. The white stone shone against the light of the full moon, an isle of white in amongst the black landscape of the rest of the University grounds. Up ahead, a shadow lurked against the black drop of night. It's haunting blue eyes glowing as she walked closer, and closer. Moving her leg forward, her foot struck something solid, she few forward and her fact impacted painfully with the cool stone of the footpath. She groaned, moving painfully, her wrist throbbing from an ill-fated attempt to brace for impact. Looking back at what she tripped over, she nudged it with her foot. It was not hard like stone, but soft, like flesh. She struggled to her knees, unable to make out any detail from the mysterious object that tripped her. Reaching into the pocket of her jacket, she pulled out her mobile phone and shined the light from its screen in front of her. Her eyes widened at the sight of one campus security guard. His head was turned, eyes widened, a facial expression of pure terror. His face was streaked with blood, blood leading messily from two pinpricks in his neck. She let out a blood-curdling scream, and tried to scramble away from the corpse in front of her. Rushing to get to her feet, her terror overtaking any thoughts of pain from her injury. She sprinted down the white path, tears streaming from her eyes as the haunting image of the body permeated her every thought. In her distress, she thought not to look ahead. She ran into something cold, and hard. Looking up, she was met with the transfixing crystalline blue eyes of a stranger. Everything went black.


End file.
